


Harvest Moon

by blutopaz15



Series: Post S3 Fics [7]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, F/M, One Shot, Post-Book: Through the Moon (The Dragon Prince), allusions to the soft!reunion that I want for these two, rayllum valentine's, will become multi chap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blutopaz15/pseuds/blutopaz15
Summary: It’s been a week since Callum found her and Rayla just can’t take the silence anymore.Prompt #2 (First Date) for #rayllumvalentines on Tumblr!
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Rayllum - Relationship
Series: Post S3 Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018518
Comments: 23
Kudos: 48





	Harvest Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt for [Rayllum Valentine's Week](https://raayllum.tumblr.com/post/639588092987195392/hey-everyone-i-thought-with-valentines-day) on Tumblr is **First Date**!
> 
> Because I already have a super duper fluffy fic literally _titled_ [First Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339401/chapters/64142800) (one of the first things I wrote, don't judge!), I decided to take this prompt as First Date...after Through the Moon. As you can imagine...we have some angst here, friends. 
> 
> This fic will very likely become multi-chapter mixture of fluff and angst in the coming weeks...so take this as Chapter 1! Title will make more sense down the road, but, yes, based on the song...:)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and I appreciate any kudos/comments you are inclined to leave for me!

The silence was definitely the worst part of being reunited.

Rayla had decided this the night before, after they’d made camp. 

Once they’d eaten dinner, Callum had wordlessly crossed to a tree at the edge of the clearing they’d settled in _—_ just like he’d done every night for the past week _—_ and cracked open his sketchbook...and then, not a _single word_ was uttered between them until the sun was down.

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d taken a breath to say something _—anything—_ to him, watching him continue to scratch away at the paper in his lap as autumn dusk fell each night. Every time, though, she’d found herself unable to find the right thing to say, staring at him dumbly instead. All the jokes and every pleasantry she could think of seemed either too light or too _stupid_ for the tense silence, and she didn’t know how to even _begin_ the conversation that _—_ she _hoped—_ would dismantle that tension.

So an hour passed. 

His weight shifted as he stretched his legs out in front of him and her breath caught, thinking maybe he’d look up and break the quiet. He didn’t.

Another heavy hour passed and the sun set.

The moon _—_ about to be full tonight _—_ had been bright overhead all week, so he certainly _could’ve_ kept drawing after dark, but he’d been using nightfall as his cue to break the silence and ask if she was ready to go to sleep.

And that’s what he’d done last night, snapping his sketchbook shut a little after dark, _finally_ done ignoring her.

That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t exactly _ignoring_ her.

Just...avoiding _talking_ to her. About anything _real_ , at least.

He wasn’t ignoring her touch, though, and, for that, she was grateful.

He’d been a little stunned at first—understandably, she had to admit—when reflex had made her reach for his hand a week ago as they set off back towards Katolis...but he hadn’t resisted or pulled away. 

He’d just...paused. 

Of course, that pause had made her instantly question what gave her the audacity—what gave her the _right_ to expect him to _hold her hand?_ —and she’d frozen, watching and dreading the rejection she thought— _knew_ —she deserved as he blinked at the hands that _she—_ not _they_ —had joined. Surprise, then uncertainty, flashed across his face before he beamed at her, his eyes shining with relief. There was even a tiny smile on his lips when he—having made up his mind, it seemed, that her touch was okay—closed his hand around hers. 

He hadn’t commented when she hadn’t been able to prevent a few tears from falling just after.

That night, it’d been Callum who’d come to _her_ side, apparently dissatisfied with sleeping across from her, separated by the dying embers of their campfire, like they’d done their first night back together. She didn’t dare question him when he’d laid beside her, more grateful than she could possibly say for his arm draped across her back as they slept, but she had to wonder if this closeness was born not of affection but of worry that she’d disappear again.

She’d said—and meant it—that she wouldn’t, but she couldn’t be sure if he believed her...because _that_ was the conversation—or at least a _piece_ of it—that his silence was an attempt to avoid.

Could dealing with the hurt _really_ be worse than all of this obnoxious, nauseating quiet?

She grimaced. Of course it would be.

She’d yet to _really_ see that hurt that his silence was hiding, but it lurked just beneath the surface of every look, every word, every touch…and her guilt at causing it weighed on her more and more, turning her stomach, with each quiet day that passed. 

She had imagined his hurt would be the _first_ thing she’d be faced with, but there’d been nothing but relief, darkened by concern, that first day when they’d sprinted across a wide clearing, directly into each other’s waiting arms, the end of his scarf streaming behind her in the wind. He’d immediately collapsed into a pile with her, arms locked around her so securely that it’d been difficult to breathe. They’d both been sobbing and laughing and she’d been blubbering about how sorry she was and he’d been wiping her tears away even though his tears had been falling just as quickly, and, for a few minutes, she’d been able to _forget_ and just bury herself against Callum’s chest, as warm and comforting as ever, their words limited to tearful combinations of “I love you,” “I’m sorry,” and “it’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, though. 

She knew that. 

He didn’t have to be all quiet and serious like this for her to know that.

The closest they’d gotten to the heart of the matter had been that first night, when she’d, with carefully chosen words, asked him where he was taking her. She’d _tried_ to make it clear that all of the guilt and regret and anguish that’d been tearing her apart since July meant she’d follow unquestioningly.

“Home,” he’d said, his voice painfully even. “I’m taking you home.”

“Callum, I need you to know—” He’d cut her off.

“I can’t talk about this yet, Rayla.” He shook his head and set his lips in a thin, tense line. “Rayla, I’m...I’m _furious_ , and I’m hurt, and—” 

He unfisted his hands. 

“And I love you, and I’m taking you home.” She swallowed and blinked hard so that the tears that pricked in the corners of her eyes wouldn’t have the chance to gather. 

“I won’t leave again,” she muttered. “That’s all I was going to say.” 

He nodded. 

“I love you too,” she whispered, returning what she didn’t deserve.

That had brought another brief moment of relief to his pained expression. He’d even laid a kiss—the first one—to her cheek.

Anticipation of all the other words that _needed_ to be spoken had been building steadily ever since, as it seemed that the only words they _were_ capable to saying to each other were limited to tired small talk and stupid, _stupid_ chatter that she couldn’t even _flirt_ properly through with all the uncomfortable tension between them.

It’d been _days_ already since Rayla had grown tired of talking about nothing but the weather—which _apparently_ Callum could now _predict?_ —and which path they should take and what they should eat for dinner and which clearing they should sleep in, and, and, _and—_

“Do you want to build the fire, or should I?” he asked when his pack hit the dirt. She groaned recognizing the pattern that each night had taken so far. 

They’d build a fire. They’d eat some food. Callum would say that he thought it would be cold, or warm, or rainy, or windy tomorrow. They’d clean up their food. He’d lean against a tree. She’d stare at him. He’d keep drawing. She’d stare some more. He’d be silent. The sun would set. They’d go to sleep.

 _Ugh_.

She’d had _enough_ , and...

She couldn’t _believe_ she was doing this.

She ignored his question and grabbed for his pack, digging around, feeling for—aha! The very same tan strip of material he’d wrapped around that stupid, adorable _smooth_ skull of his the _last_ time they’d been in Xadia together.

“What are you doing?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. He pivoted to watch her as she crossed to the edge of the clearing and tucked a few appropriately sized sticks under her arm. She plucked a couple of handfuls of leaves from a nearby bush while she was kneeling too, knowing he’d need them for—she shuddered—the _Elf Callum ensemble._

“Rayla?” he asked again. She crossed back to him and dropped her supplies to the ground before yanking him down there with her. “What’s all this?”

She held out the sticks and the headband to him.

“Elf Callum!” she exclaimed with a cheery grin, _so_ desperate for him to grin back that she was _actually_ encouraging his _horrible_ costume. “Suit up!” 

“...what?” he said, taking the disassembled headpiece from her, but still squinting at her enthusiasm with confusion.

“I’m tired of all the awkward.” Rayla pulled his empty hand into her lap so she could stuff the leaves up his sleeve herself since he made no move to do it. 

“So, we’re going out,” she explained, “on a date.” She glanced between her work and his face, seeing that the _first_ phase of her hastily-formed plan—make Callum smile—was working. Satisfied with the first green cuff, she tugged on his other arm, and he dropped the sticks. She arranged more leaves around the other wrist as she continued. 

“And we’re in Xadia.” She pointed at the tan material still looped in his fingers when she returned his hand to him. “So, put on your _stupid_ disguise, and let’s go.”

He hesitated, but pulled the headband down around his forehead anyway and attempted to arrange the straggly locks of brown hair—even _messier_ than the _first_ time he’d done this—that hung over his forehead. 

“Rayla, I don’t know if we should…” Callum began doubtfully. She’d picked up leaves again, preparing to trim his collar with them, but, hearing that doubt, she dropped them and grasped his shoulders instead.

“Callum,” she started, “you said you love me, right?” 

A pang of worry that he’d suddenly disagree struck her, but she kept her stare steady. His green eyes melted, his gaze becoming warm and soft, and her concern melted away too. 

“Of course I do, Rayla,” he cocked his head to the side, touching his fingers gently to her elbows. She kept a firm grip at his shoulders, as if that’d help her make her point. “I’m just—

“Annoyed with me,” she interrupted, sighing but undeterred. “I know.”

“Pretty sure that’s _not_ the word I used,” he said with a tiny bite of bitterness. He was still smiling, though, so that was fine. She could take a little sarcasm at her expense.

“Angry, pissed, furious, whatever.” She dropped her hands and rummaged around for those leaves again. Tucking some into his collar, she watched her hands instead of Callum’s eyes, selfishly relishing the excuse to be close as she pleaded with him. “Callum, I can’t take the quiet anymore. Just...I _miss_ you.” Tears stung in her eyes again and she looked down at the space between them.

That really _was_ the problem after all. She _missed_ him and she wasn’t sure exactly _how_ but missing him while he was literally right in front of her was somehow just as bad—maybe even somehow _worse_ —than missing him when they were apart. 

Above all else, Callum was her _very best friend_ , and she realized that _really_ what she was asking for was not a date at all, but just... _time_ with her best friend. To just... _forget_ for a little while and be _with_ each other. Time to _be_ each other’s best friend.

She knew that there was a lot of stuff—a lot of _big feelings_ —to deal with, but...she just wanted to _laugh_ with him. Why was that hard? She might feel better, she thought, if they could just move forward enough to do _that_. _He_ might feel better too. 

Maybe forget a little bit of the hurt. Just for a while, at least.

She blinked away the tears that had welled up again, staring still at the dirt.

“Come do something fun with me. Please.”

She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, knowing they’d have the answer to her question and afraid it wouldn’t be the one she wanted.

His hands reached for the vaguely antler-shaped twigs on the ground between them, and Rayla knew it was safe to look.

His grin was _so_ wide, _so_ true... _so..._ Callum.

“Just so you know, I’m going to be _extra_ annoying,” he teased. 

She grinned back, and she _knew_ she shouldn’t have but...

He was still smiling when she pulled away, whether she _should_ have kissed him or not.

“I was counting on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come be friends on tumblr!](https://blutopaz15.tumblr.com/) :)


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